Spoils to the Victor
by RedHobby
Summary: As kingdoms rise and fall across Azeroth, one kingdom is on the edge of fading into nothing but memory: Stromgarde. After years of occupation by Syndicate and ogres, it seems the people of the Kingdom of Stromgarde are ready to take their home back. But, they will need the help of unique company of mercenaries. This ragtag team of mercenaries are in it for the glory and revenge.
1. The Flames of War

Chapter 1: The Flames of War

_Long before the misty island of Pandaria was discovered, before Deathwing ripped Azeroth asunder, before the Lich King renewed his war on the living, and even before the Dark Portal was reopened, the nations of Azeroth were recovering from the ravages of the end of the third war. Nations and empires rose and fell within this time. The human kingdom of Lordaeron was ravaged by the Scourge, but from its ashes arose the Forsaken people. The dusty desolate shores of Durotan now bustled with the birth of the new orcish capital of Orgrimmar. The High Elven kingdom had been decimated by the death knight Prince Arthas, and deep within Quel'Thalas the survivors remained in seclusion and sought a cure for their addiction to magic. Entire history books can be written about the rise and fall of each of the kingdoms throughout Azeroth's existence, but this story is about only one of them. The birthplace of the modern human race, the Arathi highlands, and it is there where the once proud kingdom of Stromgarde had ruled. For months it had been besieged from nefarious forces within and from without. The Syndicate, citizens, noble and common alike, who belonged to the traitorous kingdom of Alterac spread dissatisfaction and distrust among the population of Stromgarde and sabotaged and assaulted the capital city. From the foothills of the hinterlands, the Boulderfist Clan of ogres attacked the remote farms and villages of the kingdom. Slowly their forces gathered outside of the walls of the capital city. After many days of assaults by combined Syndicate and Boulderfist forces, Stromgarde's main gate had been breached and the city was under siege…_

* * *

Years of planning had finally come to fruition. Lord Falconcrest sat atop a brown steed and viewed the ensuing battle within the main gate of Stromgarde from atop a hill, distant, safe, and secluded from the chaos he had help to orchestrate. Smoke began to billow over the stone walls surrounding the city. His syndicate saboteurs were ordered to set buildings in the eastern section afire in order to draw the defenders away from the main gate. With them distracted and focused on the fires, it had given his men time to assault the main gate. An explosive charge designed by a mercenary goblin engineer had been placed at the base of the gate and once detonated had knocked the gates open and his men immediately began to charge through and engage the city guard.

Lord Falconcrest breathed in deeply and embraced the smell of smoke and blood that wafted over the city walls in big, black, billowy clouds. The city glowed red as the fires began to rise.

"My lord, shall we join the forces at the breach?"

His bodyguard, Otto, turned in his saddle to face his master and awaited his order.

"Not yet Otto."

He replied, the day was too perfect, and there was still much more that needed to be done that day. There was no rush.

"Enjoy the view Otto. You are witnessing history. Today our people take revenge against the cowards who destroyed our homes in the second war. Finally, we get to see Lord Aiden Perenolde's revenge come to fruition. So, Otto, sit, relax, and watch as the cowards behind that wall reap what they have sowed."

Otto turned back to watching the battle unfold. He is truly an obedient dog, thought Falconcrest. It is good that I have someone so loyal by my side. Once we have the city, we will have to deal with the dreadful Boulderfist. Their alliance with the ogre clan was merely for convenience. Surely they could not let such filth reside in their new city. But that was worries for later. After the city was theirs he would deal with their ogre comrades. So, Lord Falconcrest leaned back in his saddle, and, as he had told Otto to do, he sat, relaxed, and watched the city burn.

'Lord Falconcrest, ruler of Stromgarde': the thought of his new title filled him with mirth. A smile crept across his face as he pictured himself sitting upon the throne in Stromgarde.

* * *

"Hurry Maella, we haven't got much time!"

Maella Sunweaver could hear the roar of battle, the clash of metal and the screams of dying men approach Stromgarde Keep. She rushed to keep up with her younger sister, Mishandra. Maella had tried to coax her sister in escaping the city before it went up in flames. She had learned how to cast a spell of teleportation while she was an apprentice to the archmages in Dalaran, but was only proficient enough that she could teleport herself and one other person.

War had forced them to move over the past several months. Her sister and she had been forced from their home in Quel'Thalas when the Scourge had marched through their sacred city of Quel'Thalas and defiled the Sunwell. They both then sought refuge from the ravages of the Scourge in Dalaran, but that too ended when the undead army assaulted the city. Now their third home, the human city of Stromgarde, was burning.

She and her sister ran for the storage cellar as swiftly as their feet could carry them. They had been supporting the Stromgarde priests by providing healing cures, bandages, and whatever other medical aid they could to the wounded soldiers that were brought to the keep. Mishandra praying to the light to mend wounds and burn out infections as she had been taught while still an initiate Priestess in Quel'Thalas. There were so many and more were arriving by the minute. Basic bandages had run out as well as other healing salves so Maella and her sister, Mishandra, had volunteered to retrieve more.

Maella admired her sister's unlimited capacity for generosity, but feared that if they lingered too long they would not be fortunate enough to escape the ravages of war for a third time. Her heart had broken too many times as she watched her friends and family cut down. If anything happened to her sister, her last surviving family, she did not know if she could bear to continue living any longer.

They reached the storage cellar and began to rummage through the chests and cabinets, searching for anything that could be used to aid those who were fighting to preserve their lives. As Maella was searching in the back of the storage cellar a massive explosion rocked the keep. The explosion had knocked her to her feet along with nearby shelves and other refuse. Dust and debris fell down upon the sisters in the keep's subterranean basement.

"Maella! Maella are you alright!"

The blast's pressure had muffled Maella's ears, but she could still make out her sister's voice calling to her.

"I'm fine. Just a little groggy from the impact is all."

Her head swam and her own voice sounded distant and faint to her.

"I can't see you! The dust has been kicked up in here!"

The blast must have come from the Syndicate trying to breach the massive wood and iron doors. There was so much dust floating around that it made it impossible for light to travel through the cellar. The dirt and dust got into her lungs as she tried to breathe and she began to cough. As she coughed she felt a twinge of pain on the side of her head. Maella reached up and felt the side of her head. Her palm touched something sticky and she was wracked by a sudden sharp pain. When she pulled her hand away and went to inspect it she could see the dark stain of blood on her palm.

"Stay put and I will try to make my way over to you."

Maella blocked the pain and focused on trying to get back to her sister. Maella began to feel her way over the fallen debris, making her way back to the cellar's entrance. While stepping over a fallen shelf and shattered bottles of what was likely some of the healing salve they originally went to retrieve, she slipped and fell to her hands and knees and gave a shout of both surprise and pain.

"Are you alright sister?! We have to leave here it sounds like the fighting is getting closer!"

She could hear the urgency in her sister's voice; the fear. She could see the visions of the unstoppable tide of undead washing over the barricades built up by the Quel'Thalas rangers. She heard the screams of fellow mages falling under the necromantic magic and assault of the shambling corpses. She pushed those fears aside. "You must be strong", she thought, "You must be strong for your sister. Show no fear". She pulled herself together, smothered her fear, and once again rose to her feet. She made her way through the dust and smoke and finally reached her sister near the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main floor of the keep.

"Sister! Your head is bleeding!"

Her sister tore a strip of cloth from her robe and placed it on the side of her head. The pain surged briefly as her sister applied pressure and began to wrap the cloth around her head. She murmured a prayer and immediately Maella began to feel the wound begin to heal.

Maella pushed her sister's hand away. It was only a minor cut; she had to get her sister away from the keep. They needed to survive.

"I'll be fine. We have to get out of here. The keep is no longer safe."

Her hearing had begun to return and she could hear the sounds of battle closer than before. She could also hear frantic shouting from the floor above them.

They climbed the stairs and were greeted by the frantic chaos of the keep's defenders desperately trying to rally against the Syndicate's onslaught. They were now in the keep's central banquet hall and armed guards, soldiers, and servants rushed past them in the direction of the keep's main gate.

"Maella! Mishandra! Quickly up here!"

The sister's looked up to the balcony above. Leaning over the railing was the bald head of the ancient priest, Father Eugene Sewell. His old age did not hinder him as he seemed to be renewed by youthful vigor and rushed to meet them at the top of the stairs.

"We haven't a moment to lose m'ladies. We have to get as many of the able bodied wounded to evacuate the keep and get to the western portion of the city. The Syndicate has taken the eastern city and set it ablaze and are now at the keep's very door!"

His usually kindly old eyes were franticly scanning the mayhem taking place in the banquet hall below. Soldiers and servants alike were preparing to defend the keep from the invaders and were grabbing whatever items they could get a hold of to use as weapons.

"How are we going to get them out of the keep? If the Syndicate has the front gate what other way is there out? Think Father."

Mishandra asked the old priest in as soothing of a tone as she could muster to try to calm the old man.

"The enemy is right outside the door of this keep. We have to leave now if we are going to stay ahead of the Syndicate forces!"

Maella tried once again, hoping her sister would see reason. If they waited they would be doomed.

"No sister! I will not abandon them. They need our help. Everyone else is trying to keep the invaders back so now we are their only hope of surviving."

Maella was ashamed that she would ask her sister to run away. She looked inter her sister's pleading eyes.

"Help us sister. The light will protect us as it has in the past."

Eugene bent his head and ran a hand over his bald head, thinking of a solution.

"There is another way out…through the kitchen. A side entrance the servants and cooks use to bring in daily food shipments and goods. But…"

He trailed off, but the uncertain look on his face explained his apprehension. Who knows what waited outside, or if the Syndicate had already known of the entrance.

"Mishandra, go with Eugene and get as many of the wounded ready to move as you can. I will go and secure the kitchen entrance. We must move quickly if we are to make it out before the keep is surrounded!"

Before anyone could contradict her she dashed down the stairs and headed through the banquet hall to the kitchen. If she could secure the kitchen by time her sister and the priest arrived it would save them precious time.

When she reached the kitchen she saw Prince Galen and the Stromgarde infantry commander Captain Dathanor Cromwell as well as a dozen of the Prince's guards. They quickly turned to her with swords drawn, but when they recognized who she was they visibly relaxed. Prince Galen approached her.

"Lady Sunweaver! It is good to see you alive. The keep is no longer safe. We are about to head to the western garrison. The keep…the keep is lost. I promised you and your sister sanctuary, but it seems fate has conspired against my kingdom and myself."

He took her hand and began to lead her towards the barred door leading out of the kitchen.

"Prince Galen, wait. My sister and Father Eugene are bringing the wounded here to evacuate. If you will wait but a few minutes they will be here shortly."

With the prince's personal guards they would have a better chance of facing whatever foe stood between them and the relative safety of the western city. Captain Dathanor stepped towards them.

"M'lady, we cannot wait. We have to get the prince to safety. If he falls with the keep then all of the Kingdom of Stromgarde falls."

"Please, without your aid these men and women who have already sacrificed so much for you will be cut down in the streets as they try to flee. You must protect your people!"

It dawned on her that the tables had turned. It was now her trying to convince those wanting to flee to stay behind and help others.

The prince stared into her face. She could see within his eyes the inner struggle and torment her plea had on him.

"I'm sorry Maella, but Dathanor is right."

He and Dathanor turned back to the door. The soldiers lifted the bar bracing the door and swung it open. The prince's guards immediately stepped through the door and outside of the keep, establishing defensive positions. They were lucky. The Syndicate did not know of the door. As the prince followed his personal bodyguards out of the kitchen he turned back to Maella.

"Thorin, Rilloth, Terrin, and Donal, please stay here with Lady Maella and provide protection to those she will be escorting to the western garrison."

He turned to Dathanor and gave him a half smile.

"If I fall here, the kingdom is doomed, but if I fail to do what I can for my citizens then I will be the one dooming the kingdom by my inaction."

Dathanor smiled back at the prince.

"Aye m'lord. We will protect you so that you may protect the people. And so that we can get revenge on the bastards who have done this to the kingdom."

The prince turned to Maella and took her hand in his.

"My men will help you and your sister keep the wounded safe. Meet us when you get there. We will be in the garrison, planning our counter attack on the Syndicate."

The prince and his followers turned and headed down the slope out into the flames and smoke that was once the proud capital of Stromgarde.

* * *

Lord Falconcrest rode with his entourage through the stone arch that once framed the massive wood and iron doors that had denied him and the Syndicate access to the city. The carcasses of the fallen defenders and assailants littered the street. More bodies of the city's defenses could be seen among the dead. It had been a great victory for the Syndicate. They pushed through and the main body mounted an attack up the hill to Stromgarde Keep while smaller groups splintered off down the side streets to mop up whatever remnants were left behind still in the city.

He was elated. The assault had gone better than expected. He looked up the hill and could see black billowing smoke coming from one of the towers near the front of the keep. They galloped into the city square where they met with a group of Syndicate operatives. With them was a short green goblin. He had about four teeth in his whole mouth and any sane person would do as much as they could to distract people from seeing the gaping holes in their mouth, but not this goblin. The goblin always seemed to have a mischievous smile on his face.

"Mr. Feezle…"

Lord Falconcrest guided his horse over to the goblin and the group of operatives,

"your bombs worked better than I could have expected. The main gates are off of their hinges and it seems you have done quite a bit of damage to the keep all on your own."

The goblin bowed his head in mock courtesy all the while smiling his big toothy smile.

"Weren't nuthin Lord Falconcrest. It's a beautiful day ta bomb things an its even better when I am getting paid ta do so. It is my pleasure."

A wicked twinkle flashed in the goblin's eyes. He was highly effective at the task given to him, but Lord Falconcrest doubted he'd want to keep the goblin around in full employ. He was sure that eventually the goblin would be more of a liability than a help.

"I am glad you take such pride in your work Mr. Feezle."

Lord Falconcrest turned to the operatives who were with the goblin. He was about to address them when suddenly a foul stench wafted across the square. It smelled as if pig slop had just risen up from the earth and with it came a mild tremble of the earth. Lord Falconcrest turned his head back towards the demolished gate and saw a mob of ogres shambling towards them. He recognized the one at the head, he was called Molok the Crusher, and turned to address him.

"Molok, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you and the rest of your clan…here…now…"

He greeted them icily and with contempt. He knew they were too stupid to realize it. He did not want them here, partaking in the Syndicates triumph.

"What can I do for you?"

The huge ogre looked at him and smiled.

"Boulderfist here for city. We see smoke. We take part of city promised us."

Light help him! Lord Falconcrest was sure the stupid brutes wouldn't remember the details of the agreement they had made with them for their support. There would be no way that he and the Syndicate would share their new conquest with these…these…ogres!

"Molok, when we said we would share the city with you we meant that we would provide you with land outside the city; farm land, for your people to do with as you please."

'Yes you big stupid dunce', thought Lord Falconcrest, 'you can have a pig farm or whatever would keep you all placated until we had the city secured and then could wipe you stains from the fabric of my new kingdom!'

"We no farm. Want city. Want stone huts."

Stone huts? Oh, buildings you dolt, the conqueror thought to himself.

Lord Falconcrest's blood began to boil. He was ready to reach for the sword at his hip when suddenly a Syndicate scout came running up to the Syndicate leader.

"Lord Falconcrest! The prince has been spotted leaving the keep! A scout saw him with what appeared to be his personal guard heading down the hill from the keep and into the city in the west."

"What?! We have to capture the prince!"

He needed the prince in his custody otherwise if he was able to escape he could be able to mount a Stromgarde counter offensive. Not only that, but the prince also held the sigil of the Trollbane legacy and held documents that could be used to solidify his held over the rest of the kingdom. Without those the people would be more likely to reject his claim of dominance and rise up against him. The prince was key to complete dominance over the city and the remaining citizens.

He looked to the ogres and then over to the goblin and his operatives.

"We need the prince in order take the kingdom. Whoever of you brings me the prince…alive,"

He knew that needed to be stated explicitly to both the ogres and the goblin otherwise surely the prince would be brought to him smashed or blown to pieces; he turned to the goblin

"I will give them all of the gold ransacked throughout the city …"

Then he turned to the ogres,

"...or I will give them half the city."

* * *

Maella and the four remaining guards waited outside of the kitchen. It wasn't long before her sister and the priest arrived with about two dozen of the wounded. The wounded moved slowly but the best they could. They would have to move between buildings and avoid confrontation if they were to survive. They moved down the same slope the prince and his guards had traveled moments before.

As they made their way into the streets they saw the true destructive force of the Syndicate. All along the road buildings burned and the corpses of bystanders were strewn. A cart of produce was toppled in the middle of the road with what appeared to at one time have been the owner of the cart trapped underneath. He was long past saving as indicated by the pool of blood emanating from the sword wound across his chest.

Maella turned to the guard nearest him. Terrin, he was tall for a human, probably a couple inches taller than an average high elf male.

"Terrin, what is the best route between streets that will get us to the garrison in the west?"

"If we head up that alley over there..."

he pointed with his sword between what appeared to at one time been a tavern but now was only a burnt husk and a bakery that had its front door shattered in and windows smashed,

"...and head left on the next street, it should take us to the fountain square of the commerce section. From there, we can take some of the back roads behind the shops and get to the entrance of the western garrison."

The road appeared clear on both ends. The sounds of battle still rang up the hill at the keep. Now was the best time to move while the Syndicate forces were occupied.

"Take the lead Terrin, and we will have the wounded start crossing the street. Lead them to the next street and start guiding them."

Terrin ran across the street and made sure the alley was clear and they then began to guide the column of wounded to him. Mishandra and Father Eugene helped the less mobile patients across the street. Maella and the three other guards kept scanning both directions down the road and up the hill for any sign that they had been spotted. The last of the wounded was crossing the street when suddenly they heard a mighty crash. They all stopped to see where it had come from but nothing could be seen.

"Over there!"

Rilloth pointed to the south east. A massive cloud of dust rose up above the roof line.

"Keep moving! We need to get off the street!"

They began to feel the earth tremble and heard what sounded like a stampede of cattle.

Suddenly, three ogres rounded the corner of the nearest intersection to the east of their position. Maella and the three guards tried to rush the last of the wounded into cover, but it was too late. One of the ogres had spotted them and turned to the other two ogres

"Crush puny humans!"

All three of the ogres began to run down the street. Rilloth turned to Maella.

"Run. Get the wounded out of here. We'll handle these three overgrown buffoons."

And with that Rilloth, Thorin, and Donal charged at the oncoming ogres. The guardsmen shouted their defiance as they met the trio of ogre assailants head-on. Maella looked back one more time as she saw one of the ogres swing at Rilloth. He rolled under the blow and came up behind the ogre and then swung his blade across the ogre's calf. The ogre yelled in pain and fell to his knee. Just as the ogre fell to his knee, Donal jumped at the ogre's face and ran his sword clear through ogre's skull. The ogre fell forward and struck the cobblestone road and moved no more.

That was the last she saw of them as she ran through the alley between the ruined buildings. Maella joined with the rest of the column at the other end of the alley just as she heard the unmistakable scream of one of the guards being cut down.

The wounded had new found energy as fear pumped adrenaline through their veins and they ran down the street towards the commerce section away from the sound of battle, to the west, and to safety.

When they reached the square all was quiet again. The sounds of battle were few and in the distance. They would strike up briefly before they quickly ended. Pockets of Stromgarde defenders must still have hold over parts of the city, but as fewer and fewer sounds of battle could be heard it was obvious that soon the Syndicate would have most of the city under its control.

To the east, the horizon glowed red with the flames consuming the city's residential area. Dark clouds of smoke rose from the city and had begun to block out the sun itself. Ruins remained of the once bustling commerce square. At this time of day people from all over the Arathi Highlands should be here selling their goods. But now there was nothing by deathly stillness.

The wounded slumped to the ground around the base of the fountain; some even found the energy to reach into the pool with cupped hands for some of the cool revitalizing water. They had all used what must have felt like the last of their strength as they had fled from the attacking ogres. Father Eugene and Mishandra went from the one wounded to the next, checking their wounds and offering a quick prayer of restoration to each.

"Are you alright?"

Maella went to her sister. Her constant care for the wounded had begun to show visible signs of exhaustion.

"I am alright dear sister."

Mishandra gave her sister a weak but encouraging smile. Maella smiled back. As long as they worked together, they would survive. Maella looked around the square and spotted Terrin, standing in-between the fountain and a nearby tailor shop.

Maella approached Terrin.

"Where to now?"

Terrin was scanning the buildings around the square, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"What is it Terrin?" Maella whispered.

"Something…something isn't right…"

_Boom! Craaack!_

"Arrghhhhhh!"

Terrin gripped his left leg. A hole was torn through it and Terrin fell to his knees in pain.

"Don annya get any funny ideas now. Jus stand weh you are and don fuss none."

Suddenly from the shadows of one of the doorways stepped a goblin holding a scoped rifle, smoke still seeping from the end of the barrel, in one hand and in the other hand he held a small black cylinder with a little red button on top. He smiled a wicked twisted smile at them with all his teeth covered in gold, at least whatever teeth he still had left.

Then all the shadows around the square seemed to come to life. From the shadows emerged half a dozen Syndicate agents, some with daggers drawn while others had bows notched with arrows pointing at the ragtag group of survivors from the keep.

"This 'ere in my hand is a detonator that is set ta all dem bombs I have wired throughout this square. Any a you do anything funny….BOOM!"

He smiled his big toothy grin at them.

"Now, les all jus sit tight until tha boss get here."

* * *

Lord Falconcrest stood in front of the once grand keep of Stromgarde. They had finally captured the last defender of the keep and had begun searching the faces of the slain and every last corner of the keep for the prince of Stromgarde. Lord Falconcrest had put Otto in charge of the search. He could trust him to do a thorough job and ensure that no stone was left unturned in the search.

Otto emerged from the keep several minutes later with a miserable looking man who was covered in soot from head to toes. Otto pushed the man towards Lord Falconcrest and the man fell face first into the dirt.

"My lord, I found this man trying to hide in the kitchen's chimney. He says he has knowledge of the prince's whereabouts. Tell Lord Falconcrest what you told me."

The man was shaking, but looked up at Lord Falconcrest's face.

"Mmm…mmmm.m'lord…I heard…I heard…"

"Spit it out you swine or I will have Otto toss you back into the chimney and light a fire."

Lord Falconcrest had no patience, especially for a coward. The threat of being roasted alive seemed to have the effect of having the man's survival instinct override his fear.

"M'lord, while hiding in the chimney I heard several people in the kitchen say they were going to head to the western garrison. I heard one of them addressed as Prince Galen, so it must have been him!"

The man now looked up at Lord Falconcrest with pleading simpering eyes. How Lord Falconcrest loathed cowards. Looking at the man filled him with disgust and anger.

"Otto, properly thank this man on my behalf."

And then without hesitation Otto took the massive maul slung across his back raised it over his head and brought it down upon the man's skull.

Lord Falconcrest was sure that Prince Galen had already fled. Between the initial scout's report, the ogre who returned with a knife in his gut and three heads in a bag and claims of a larger group heading west, and now the coward's tale he was sure Galen was scurrying out in between the ruins of his once great city.

As he began to mull over his options for his next move, a scout ran up the hill and approached him.

"My lord. Fezzle and some of the operatives have round up a rather large group of what appears to be survivors of the keep."

What luck! The light must truly have blessed Lord Falconcrest this day. Surely, he thought to himself, the light knows that we, the people who were forced from their kingdom are on a righteous quest of vengeance to regain what was taken from us and strip the kingdoms from those who have wronged us. With a smile he turned to Otto.

"Mount up and come with me, but have the men search the keep again. No stone unturned Otto."

And with that he began to gallop down the hill.

* * *

The goblin had them all sitting around the fountain with a large bundle of dynamite strapped to the top of it. Mishandra tended to Terrin's wounded leg while Father Eugene tended the other wounded. The goblin never took his eyes off of them and sat atop a crate with the rifle across his lap, and smiling his big, toothy, evil smile at them.

The goblin would blow them all up without hesitation. Maella had heard how these creatures were often self destructive. He would surely smile that wicked little smile of his and push the button at the slightest hint of resistance.

The rest of the Syndicate operatives surrounded the huddle of captives. They no longer perceived the group as a significant threat so they merely stood to the side with daggers sheathed and arrows in quivers.

Maella heard the sound of voices and hoofs approaching the square from the east. She looked down the road and saw four men atop horses dressed in the black outfits that indicated they were Syndicate. The two men on the far sides wore hoods covering their heads and scarves covering their mouths and noses and seemed to be merely guards for the two men ahead of them. Both of the men in front had carried themselves with an aura of importance and confidence, one bald with a large mace slung across his back and the other with short brown hair and two long blades at his hips.

They approached and the brown haired one addressed the goblin just as the crazed creature hopped off of the box, hand still on the detonator.

"What do you have here Feezel?"

The man dismounted and approached the Stromgarde keep survivors.

"Well Lord Falconcrest, it appears these ones was coming from the direction of the keep. So I figured they was worth stoppin. Might have that Galen fella yous lookin fer."

The goblin smiled his toothy smile at the man.

Lord Falconcrest looked over the survivors. He looked from one to the next with a calm detached manner.

"No. He is not with them."

Lord Falconcrest looked at each of the wounded again. His face began to turn into a scowl and slowly a deep scarlet hue took to his face as his rage visibly grew. He grabbed the throat of the nearest wounded and pulled the man to his feet and mere inches from his own face.

"Tell me! Where is Prince Galen!?"

One of the wounded stood up and spit at Lord Falconcrest's feet.

"We'll never betray our liege you scum! We will not stand for this injustice you Syndicate swine! You have signed your death warrant by attacking Stromgarde!"

"I'm afraid it is you who have signed the death warrant my friend. Otto!"

And with that the bald man dismounted, drew his mace, and caved in the skull of the defiant man.

"Now, I don't need any lip from any of you! Tell me what you know of the whereabouts of your prince or I will have Otto crush each of your skulls one by one!"

"To hell with you Falconcrest you murderer! Justice will be dealt to you."

Tarrin had risen on his one good leg and attempted to tackle Lord Falconcrest. Otto stepped between his Lord and the attacker and swung his mace sideways into Terrin's midsection. The wind was knocked out of Tarrin and all could hear his ribs audibly crack.

While Terrin had tried to take on Lord Falconcrest, Mishandra had reached for the goblin's rifle as Father Eugene struck Feezel with a spell of blinding light. The goblin reactively reached up to his face and as he did so Mishandra pried the gun from his fingers and smashed the butt of the rifle into the little goblin's nose. A loud crackle sounded from the impact and the goblin fell backwards onto the ground stunned and with a broken nose.

Maella conjured a flame underneath the horse of the nearest Syndicate bodyguard causing his horse to rear, bucking the rider from the saddle. The man struck the cobble stone road hard with his head and a thud and did not rise again. Suddenly, the wounded Stromgarde defenders who could still fight rose up and rushed towards the Syndicate villains.

"Defenders! Subdue the nearest assailant, but focus on Lord Falconcrest!"

Maella found herself suddenly taking charge of the impromptu resistance fight. The Syndicate was slow to reach and many were tackled or struck with whatever makeshift weapon one of the defenders could reach. Several had picked up wooden planks that were remnants of some of the nearby buildings. Some had picked up stones or bricks from the fountain and swung them with all their might at the heads of the Syndicate operatives.

The Syndicate had begun to rally against the uprising. One of the operatives had sprinted away from the fighting only to turn around, unsheathe his bow, and began unleashing arrow after arrow at the defenders. One of the arrows struck the man immediately in front of Maella in the chest. The man let out a groan and fell backwards into Maella. She went down with the man, but quickly recovered. The man reached out for Maella and looked her in the eyes.

"Defend…Stromgarde…save…."

And with a final gasp the man passed on. Maella lingered for a second longer, staring into the man's eyes, hoping that somehow he would not be dead and that all of this was only a nightmare. She wished and wished that she would suddenly wake up back in her room in Quel'Thalas. Wake up there with her sister and her family. And that the Scourge and the Syndicate never existed and that their lives had never gone the way they had.

Maella realized that she had begun to cry. She became angry with herself. 'Stop it', she thought. 'Wishing for things won't change anything. You need to fight! You need to protect your sister and your friends! They are all counting on you!' She stood back up and faced the archer across the square. He had already taken down three more of the defenders in seconds that she had been down. She began to summon a massive fireball and when the spell was ready she unleashed it at the archer. He saw the fiery missile heading for him but was too slow to reach. The fireball struck the archer in the chest and exploded scattering smaller licks of flames around where he stood. He writhed in fiery pain for a second later before he fell to the ground.

While Maella was handling the archer, Mishandra had witnessed as four of the wounded had tried to reach Lord Falconcrest only to be struck down by the Syndicate leader's henchman Otto and his massive two-handed maul. Lord Falconcrest saw her, saw the rifle, and then began to reach for his belt. Mishandra aimed the rifle towards Falconcrest, but as she went to pull the trigger a dagger struck her in the chest. She gasped and staggered back as her grip tightened on the trigger and the shot went up into the air.

"Mishandra!"

Maella screamed and in her mind she screamed 'No! No! No! Noooooo! Not my sister! End the nightmare! End the torment!'

As Maella turned to see her sister fall she saw Lord Falconcrest facing her while reaching for another throwing knife. Maella screamed with fury and targeted an arcane bolt at Lord Falconcrest just as he unleashed the second dagger, sending him flying back against the wall of the nearest building. The blade flew at her and sliced across the side of her face near her eye. Pain shot through her head. A million daggers of pain went off and screamed for her to pass out so that she wouldn't have to face the pain. She could no longer see with her right eye. But her rage and sorrow had taken hold of her. A spirit of vengeance and sorrow took control of her and pushed her on. Maella looked back to her sister and saw Father Eugene knelt over her, laying his hands upon her wound and praying with all his might. She turned back to the Syndicate attackers as Otto had struck down one of the wounded Stromgarde defenders who tried to reach for him.

The other Syndicate bodyguard had begun to cut through the wounded Stromgarde soldiers and was attempting to reach Maella. He was feet away from Maella and with a quickness she did not know she could possess she murmured her spell and she cast a bolt of fire at him. He anticipated her attack and rolled out of the way of danger. Maella again with a speed that belied her modest experience as a mage then immediately conjured a freezing blast at the Syndicate bodyguard's feet trapping him in place. As he struggled to release himself, he was overtaken by one of the remaining Stromgarde defenders who took him to the ground and attempted to smash his skull against the cobble stone.

Maella turned to face Lord Falconcrest and finish him. As she turned back to face him, she saw that Otto had reached him and was helping him into his horse's saddle. She ran at him while summoning with all her will a fireball that would engulf him and his crony Otto in a blaze of arcane fire. She looked into the face of the Syndicate leader. He stared back at her with a twisted grin on his face.

"Now Feezel! Blow them all to hell!"

Maella turned to see the wicked little goblin smiling that same vile smile. In his hand he held the detonator. Maella looked back to her sister and Father Eugene, tears streaming down his face. She began to summon a firebolt at the goblin but before she could finish her spell he had pressed the detonator. Maella felt the heat and the force of the explosion and was sent flying through the air. She struck the ground and then she felt no more.

* * *

A dozen riders had gone out to investigate the massive explosion that could be felt all the way in the western garrison. The prince had ordered them for fear of a possible attack by the Syndicate. He hope the riders could reach the site and return with news of the enemy's disposition so they could prepare for the inevitable attack. But instead the riders had returned with bodies and four of the remaining survivors from Stromgarde Keep. The survivors explained that the sister high elves, priest, and four guardsmen who remained behind had fought to save their lives and that it was solely of their sacrifice and courage that any of them still stood alive.

The prince went to the bodies and just as the survivors' stories told the two high elves, the old man, and Terrin laid dead at his feet. Terrin's ribs were crushed and he was almost unrecognizable from the blast, but his height and armor left no doubt that it was him. The old man lay atop one of the high elf sisters as if he had tried to shield her from the flames of the explosion. Both were badly burned and nearly unrecognizable. The last was unmistakably Maella. She had only mild burns and was likely at the edge of the blast radius. A deep cut ran across the right side of her face and across her eye, likely rendering it useless even if she had survived. The prince knelt among the bodies.

Captain Dathanor approached the prince.

"My lord. Scouts in the city are reporting that the Syndicate is falling back to the east side of the city."

"What happened? Why would they retreat?"

The prince stood and faced the commander.

"Apparently there has been a falling out between the ogres of the Boulderfist Clan and the Syndicate leadership. They fought in the main city square before the Syndicate retreated to the east and the keep and the ogres headed towards the mage tower in the north of the city."

"That gives us a chance to regroup and mount defenses. We will use this section of the city as a staging point for future operations to reclaim the city. We need to take the civilian survivors we have and take them north out of the city. Its too dangerous here now and until we regain the city they won't have any reason to stay."

"Yes my lord. We will work on getting as many survivors as we can evacuate right away."

A loud gasp, as if someone had just come up from deep within the ocean and was trying to take in as much air as they could in one gulp, was heard coming from the bodies of the blast victims. Both Prince Galen and Captain Dathanor turned to see where it came from. They approached the fallen heroes and began to inspect them. Prince Galen was inspecting Maella when he noticed that her chest was moving up and down ever so slightly.

"Medic! Priest! We have a survivor here!"


	2. The Stranglethorn Job

Chapter 2: The Cape of Stranglethorn Job

_Years have now passed since the once mighty Kingdom of Stromgarde was shattered. Remnants of the army of Stromgarde as well as survivors of the attack on the capital fled into the hills of the Arathi Highlands. Within the hills they established Refuge Point. Prince Galen and his remaining city guard remained in the city, making their plans to retake the city and oust the unwanted inhabitants. Envoys of Stromgarde went to the New Stormwind to request aid and support to retake their home, but Stormwind had their own domestic obstacles which hindered their ability to provide any aid to the refugees. The same response was given by the Ironforge Dwarves and reclusive Night Elves. The third war had ravaged Azeroth and for the time being all the races and kingdoms were focused inwards and on returning to some semblance of normalcy they had before the Scourge and the invasion of the Burning Legion._

_Stromgarde continued to crumble even as the Dark Portal had reopened, the combined Horde and Alliance expeditions headed north to confront the Lich King, Deathwing arose from his hideaway deep beneath the surface and nearly tore Azeroth in half, and the long lost continent of Pandaria was found. The people of Stromgarde still hold on to the hope that their home will be theirs again even after their prince, Galen Trollbane, was struck down and resurrected to serve the banshee queen Sylvanas within the ranks of the Forsaken. Even after all of this, after all the hardships and wars, the people still have one final hope. The hope that the last of the Trollbane line would return to the Arathi Highlands and lead his people to retake their home. Danath Trollbane has done his duty for the Alliance in Outland, and now it is nearly time for his return._

_The wheel of fate turns and preparations are being made for the Danath's return, but with the world of Azeroth still teetering on the brink of open war between the Alliance and Horde help will be hard to come by. Only with the aid of truly remarkable and talented heroes will there be any chance of victory._

* * *

Thomas Blackwell shook as a cold salty breeze blew past him from the sea. He and six of his henchmen had been waiting at an isolated inlet in the Cape of Stranglethorn. Once the sun had gone down, the normal heat and humidity of the jungle dissipated to a deeply chilling cold. It didn't help that the inlet funneled the cold winds from the sea right to where they were awaiting the Bloodsail Buccaneers' envoy. Normally, Thomas and his boys would be working out of Westfall. They did side jobs for the newly revitalized Defias Brotherhood. He had been working for them exclusively for too long. They had begun to pressure him to take part in "the just cause". Thomas was never one for causes, unless of course the cause was to make money. He was a businessman first and a fighter second.

Just as the moon was reaching its highest point in the sky, one of his lookouts had spotted the sails of a boat sailing around the edge of shore and heading into the inlet. Thomas picked up the lantern that he had kept covered with a heavy cloth tarp. He held the lantern in front of him and lifted the cloth in front of the lantern to signal the ship. He and his contact had an agreed upon pattern, and when the ship had responded appropriately with their own signal lamp he and his boys made ready the cargo and waited for the pirates' representative to come ashore on one of their ships row boats.

As soon as the boat approached the shore, three men hopped over the side of the ship and began towing the boat upon the sandy beach. Once the boat had been shored, three more men, all wearing a dark blood red article of clothing to identify with the pirate enterprise they were employed, leaped onto the beach and fanned off to each side. Thomas and his men stood by their crates of stolen merchandise watching the Bloodsail Pirates secure and sweep the area for any possible signs of subterfuge or double crossings that he might have planned. Thomas endured the slight insult. It was the first time he and the pirates would be working together and it was only natural that they might each have their own suspicions of the other. No honor among thieves as the saying went.

Finally, after the buccaneers were satisfied they were alone; the envoy disembarked and approached Thomas. He was a large man with wide shoulders and skin deeply tanned from spending most of his days on the ocean. He wore a deep red jacket that was battered and worn but at one time would have been considered a nobleman's jacket. The man's face was marked with three scars: one above his left eye, across his nose, and on his right cheek. His chin was covered in a beard that extended all the way to his chest and he spoke in a deep booming voice:

"Mr. Blackwell I presume?" He didn't even wait for a response. "I am here as a representative of the Bloodsail Buccaneers to do business with your enterprise. If we are satisfied with what you have to offer then we will consider negotiating further with you."

Straight to business without any rhetoric on how they would be supporting a worthwhile cause or whatever they chose to call their vendetta. Thomas couldn't help by crack a smile. He was already looking forward to working with them over the Defias Brotherhood.

Thomas gestured to his men and they carried one of the crates to him and cracked open the lid. "We acquired these crates from a convoy scheduled to stop at the Explorer League's Digsite and Booty Bay." He reached in and pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with string. He opened the bundle and showed the envoy its contents. Just within that single bundle was twenty sticks of dynamite, and there were another two dozen bundles still in the crate.

"Captain Redsail, the other crates contain medical supplies, dried food, drinking water casks, and random luxury goods. It's all yours if the price is right." The envoy took one of the sticks of dynamite and inspected it. Though the man tried to hide his emotions, Thomas could see he was impressed and eager to buy.

Redsail looked up and was about to start the negotiations when suddenly a rattling noise was heard coming from the path deeper within the jungle and approaching them. The envoy looked at Thomas:

"What's that?"

Thomas was looking in to the foliage of the jungle trying to make out the source of the noise.

"I have no idea. It's not one of ours. Men, be ready to take whatever unfortunate soul decided to wander upon this site tonight." 'Light have mercy on whoever thought they could ruin this deal,' thought Thomas. He continued to peer down the path leading into the jungle when suddenly a cart came in to view.

* * *

"Alright Garret, it's nearly show time." The short brawny dwarf adjusted himself in the passenger seat at the front of the cart. The human next to him driving the cart responded with only a grunt. They were both itching for a fight. The human pulled his cowl deeper over his face so that whatever light from the moon would not show his features. The dwarf ran his fingers through his crimson red beard that extended from his chin all the way down to his navel. He checked that the mace he had hidden under his seat was still where he left it and then was all set for the coming confrontation.

"Halt!" They heard a shout coming from the clearing near the beach but continued driving the horse and cart towards the opening.

"Halt or else!" Now they were far enough near the beach that they could see the entire scene unfolding before they had interrupted. Two men, one obviously a pirate, stood near an open crate. Another dozen men, half pirates, were fanned out across the beach with one rowboat shored and in the distance a larger sea vessel anchored within the inlet. All the men had their swords drawn and visibly ready to fight.

Garret pulled the cart to a stop and let out a low throaty growl that only the dwarf next to him could hear.

"Easy lad, let me do the talkin." The dwarf stood up and looked visibly perplexed.

"Oy! This isn't Booty Bay! Evening gentlemen, my name is Father Magnar, a lowly servant of the Light, an this here strapping young lad is Garret, my driver. My companion an I were on our way to Booty Bay to bring the Light and salvation to the wicked sinners of Booty Bay, but it seems we took a wrong turn in the jungle. Could any a ye help us get back on track and guide us to Booty Bay?"

Magnar hoped the priest story would disarm them long enough for him and Garret to get in close and start cracking skulls. The man next to the open crate stepped towards the cart as two more began to flank the cart on either side.

"This is no place for you dwarf. Turn around and head back on the path and tell no one what you saw here."

"No witnesses Thomas." The first man who spoke turned to look back at the large pirate by the crates. It seems this one isn't a fighter, thought Magnar, but the other and his pirates will likely be the trouble.

"Gentlemen, please, can't you see it in ye heart to let the light in. We are nothin but weary travelers. We mean you no harm." Magnar smiled at them. If they bought that he would quit adventuring and become a politician right then and there.

The large pirate began to approach the cart.

"Enough talk out of you dwarf, seize them!" One of the men on Magnar's side reached out to grab the dwarf by the arm, but was instead met with the dwarf's mace to the side of his head knocking him out cold. The man on the driver's side reached out and grabbed Garret's arm and looked up into the face beneath the cowl. He stared up into the dark chilling blue orbs within the man's eye sockets and was immediately frozen in fear

"Death Knight!" The man screamed at the top of his lungs, but as he stared up into the man's face he noticed it seemed to shift. The jaw elongated and the teeth began to grow. The arm he had seized rippled with growing muscle and hair began to sprout. The sounds of bones cracking and shifting could be heard from the man's body and suddenly it was not a man's face he was looking into, but rather a wolf's.

"Worgen!" The man screamed again as he felt the worgen's clawed hand wrap around his throat and hurl him across the beach into one of the pirates as if he had been nothing but a mere rag doll. Garret unleashed a howl and leapt from the cart landing on one of the approaching men.

"Surround them!" The shout came from the large pirate who was obviously in charge. Magnar swung his mighty mace at the next approaching henchman. The man slashed at Magnar with his cutlass but Magnar ducked underneath the blow and swung his mace up underneath the man's now exposed chin. He struck the man with enough force that he had flown a foot into the air before landing with his back on the sand and a fractured jaw.

"Any time ye are ready to help would be great Ali!" shouted Magnar.

One of the pirates had run back to the shored boat and came back with a blunderbuss. He pointed the gun at Garret who at the time was wielding a sword in one hand defending against an attacking pirate while with the other was using his necrotic powers to asphyxiate one of Blackwell's henchman who had tried to get behind the worgen. The man knelt on the beach grasping at his neck as his face turned blue. The pirate lined up the shot and prepared to pull the trigger when suddenly a bonobo monkey leapt from atop one of the nearby trees screeching as he landed upon the head of the pirate. The pirate fell upon his back as the monkey pummeled his face and chest with his balled fists. Two pirates rushed to the downed man to try to pull the monkey off of him but were stopped when suddenly two arrows were launched from the tree line striking them in the chest.

The blood elf Ali'theron emerged from the tree line and slung his bow across his back. From his hips he drew out two curved cutlasses and rushed to join Magnar who had been fending off three assailants, one of whom was Thomas Blackwell. One of the attackers turned to face the blood elf and immediately went on the defense as the elf's twin blades danced across the pirate's single blade. It wasn't long before the pirate fell under the elf's flurry of blades. Ali turned to join the dwarf as he heard the call for retreat sound from the pirate commander. He saw as the few remaining pirates dashed across the beach and began to push the rowboat back into the water.

Thomas Blackwell had disengaged from the dwarf and began to make a run for the safety of the fleeing boat. Ali took off after him and began to gain on him until suddenly shots were fired from the boat striking the sand in front of him and sending up a huge cloud of sand and dirt into his face. The elf dropped to the beach as more shots began to fire. He looked up in time to see Blackwell swimming out to the waiting boat along with the remaining pirates.

Magnar swung his mace low taking his assailant by surprise. The mace made contact just below the man's knee and the audible crack of broken bone could be heard. The man fell to the ground and screamed in agony. Magnar looked down the beach where Garret was finishing his battle with the last remaining henchman on the beach. The boat was rowing off towards the awaiting vessel. They had missed their chance of capturing the two men on the beach during the negotiations.

"They got away." Ali'theron was covered in sand as he approached Magnar. His bonobo monkey, Alaus, had joined him and perched upon the blood elf's shoulder.

"Ye did good son. It would have been crazy to try to pursue them further with a hail of bullets flying from the boat." They had secured the goods which were their primary contract, but snagging the culprits would reap them an even bigger bonus.

Garret joined them by the crates. He had already shifted back to his human form.

"It was a good fight." The deeply cold and distant voice of Garret still gave Magnar chills even after all of the years they had been fighting together. "Now we wait to see what Malachi can do to bring in Blackwell and Captain Redsail."

They all smiled as they started loading the crates onto the cart knowing what Malachi would do. It would surely be effective, crazy, and would be quite the show for them to see from the beach.

* * *

_Oh, what shall we do with a drunken Naga!?_

_What shall we do with a drunken Naga?!_

_What shall we do with a drunken Naga early in the morning?!_

Malachi sung to himself as he slowly made his way across the sandy bottom of the sea in the inlet. One of the many benefits of being undead was that he no longer had to worry about breathing. He readjusted the Nagahide backpack on his shoulders as he approached the anchor. He looked up at the looming bottom of the vessel he was about to board. 'Such a lovely night for an infiltration,' he thought to himself. As he began to climb the chain, he took up his song again.

_Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf,_

_Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf,_

_Put him in the back with an angry Night Elf early in the morning!_

His head breached the calm surface of the water and he slowly scanned around for signs of movement. He listened to the sounds coming from the deck of the ship. He could hear the hustle and bustle of activity. They must have been spooked when they heard the commotion on the beach. 'Good,' he thought, 'they'll be too distracted on the fight to be bother being on the lookout for little old me.' He could see the approaching rowboat heading towards the ship with the remnants of the fight on the beach.

He made his way up the rest of the chain and climbed along the boards of the ship to an open port hole. He climbed into the cannon deck of the ship and looked around for activity. There were a couple of buccaneers talking near the front of the deck but none of them were paying close enough attention to notice him. 'This is too easy. We need to start taking more challenging contracts after this.'

He slipped quietly through the shadows and made his way to the rear of the ship. From there he climbed down the ladder leading into the ships lower hull. The buccaneers used this part of the ship to store their food, drinking water, and supplies necessary to repair the ship. Not a soul in sight.

"It's good they don't keep their gunpowder and explosives down here. Why if an explosion was to happen down here the entire ship would likely sink!" He cackled to himself as he took the Nagahide bag off his back and peered at the contents that it contained. He pulled the sticks of dynamite one by one out. Thanks to the Naga's water resistant hide they were all still dry and ready for use. He pulled out a string of fuse wire and connected each of them with a cord of approximately five feet length in between. He went along the starboard side of the craft and lined the explosives along the hull. When he was finished he attached a timed fuse he had gotten from a goblin engineer in Booty Bay.

"It's not a party without fireworks!" He cackled to himself again.

He made his way back up to the cannon deck when he heard the sound of footsteps across the main deck above. They were moving towards the rear of the ship and the captain's quarters. 'Ahhhh, the guests of honor have arrived to my little shindig. How exciting!'

_Ohhhh! Skin him up and let's make supper!_

_Skin him up and let's make supper!_

_Skin him up and let's make supper early in the evening!_

* * *

"How did they know we were meeting there!?" Captain Redsail berated Blackwell as if the man had planned to lose all of his merchandise on purpose. The audacity!

"I lost five good men tonight on that beach as well as all the goods! All of my boys have been with me for years and I trust each of them completely! It's your organization that is made up of cutthroats and thieves. It was likely one of yours!"

Captain Redsail approached the smaller man and stood with his face mere inches away.

"Don't you dare insult me and my men on MY boat ever again. Unless you plan on swimming back and taking those goods with just yourself and your last men you will do what I say." It was more chilling that the behemoth of a man said it with a calm quiet fury then out right yelling in his face. Redsail turned away and went back to his desk. "I am going to mount up another party and we are going to take the beach. We'll bring a mini cannon on the boat to engage them with in case they have any more surprises."

Just then the door swung open and a deckhand stepped in with bugged eyes and open mouth look of surprise.

"What is it Samuel?!" Captain Redsail yelled at the man.

The man's expression never changed as he fell face first upon the floor with a dagger in his back. Standing behind the body was the hunched form of Malachi.

"Surprise!" The undead rogue cackled as he launched a poisoned dart at Blackwell. The dart struck him in the shoulder. Blackwell suddenly felt his muscles seize up as he fell to the floor paralyzed. Redsail did not hesitate as he leapt over his desk, sword drawn, and charged the invader. Malachi reached into his belt and rolled three small balls across the deck at Redsail. They exploded at his feet emitting a blinding flash and a haze of smoke. Redsail swung his sword blindly about attempting to slice the rogue in two. He felt the strike to his head come from behind and fell over unconscious.

When the smoke cleared, Blackwell could see the rogue standing over the still form of Captain Redsail. Try as he might to call for help, the poison prevented him from doing anything but watch. Malachi turned his head and looked at Blackwell with a grin.

" I gotta be honest with you Blackwell. We were a little upset no one invited us to this lovely beach party you were throwing." Malachi knelt down and began to pull a rope from his bag and began tying up the unconscious Redsail.

"Some folks down in Booty Bay were talking about how you were throwing this huge party here with fireworks and everything, but you only invited these Bloodsail goons." Malachi finished tying up Redsail and looked at Blackwell while shaking his head.

"That was not very polite at all Thomas." He stood up and approached the paralyzed Blackwell. "But it's fine Blackwell because I am here to offer to take you to an even better party. Both you and Redsail here were invited by the Baron of Booty Bay to a party there. Now wouldn't that be rude if you both didn't show up? Say nothing if you agree." Malachi smiled at the paralyzed man. He watched as the man's eyes darted around frantically and his mouth twitched. The poison wouldn't wear off for hours.

* * *

Garret and Magnar loaded the last crate onto the cart and closed the rear tail gate. They all then walked to the edge of the beach and stared across the water at the lone ship still anchored in the middle of the inlet. Suddenly, a shadow began to bob across the water from the ship towards the beach. As the small row boat got closer, they could see two figures sitting in the back of the boat as a lone figure in the middle of the boat rowed.

"Ack! He did it!" Magnar cheered. "I'm surprised we didn't hear any sounds of alarm or anything from the boat either."

"He does love to make a scene that one." Ali'theron replied.

"Give it time. He always has something up his sleeve." Garret stared across the water. He knew his long time friend was never one for subtlety unless it absolutely required it. 'In like a ghost, but out like a raging kodo' he would always say.

Suddenly the figure on the row boat stood up and raised his hands to the night sky.

"What's that lunatic doing?" Before Magnar could finish his sentence a loud boom sounded from the ship. All three ducked expecting that the ship's cannons might have open fired, but were instead greeted with the sight of smoke billowing from the hull of the ship as it slowly began to keel to one side. The explosion caused a surge of waves and all could see the silhouette of Malachi hopping up and down on the little boat as the waves surged and pushed the boat faster towards shore. Even from the beach they could hear the cackle of his laughter.

"Aye lads. Seems another job completed." They all watched as the waves began to carry the undead man and his quarry closer to shore.

* * *

They had returned to Booty Bay with the cargo and the captives and collected their fees. Baron Revilgaz provided the bounty for both Redsail and Blackwell and they returned the goods to the port authority to close out their contract. The goblins would surely sell the dynamite the Explorer's League had stolen from them for a profit, but that was the nature of dealing with goblins: they will make a profit off of other's expense if it suits their goals.

The four mercenaries headed down the docks to celebrate at the Salty Sailor Tavern. At this time of evening, local revelry was already in full swing and the tavern was packed. They found a table away from the bar, ordered their drinks, and regaled each other with their stories of their recent conquest.

"You shoulda seen the look on the man's face that grabbed Garret!" Magnar laughed, took another drink, and continued, "He looked like he was gonna wet himself when he recognized he was a Death Knight, and then when Garret started to change I was sure the man was gonna faint out of fear! Bad enough he grabbed a Death Knight, but a worgen Death Knight! Har har har!" They all got a chuckle out of it. Even Garret allowed a grin to creep across his face.

"I wish I had been there at the beach with you all. Explosions are fun, but nothing can quite match the thrill of cracking skulls!" Malachi grinned and the exposed tendons on the side of his face twitched as he cackled.

"We were all anxious to see what you had planned Malachi." Ali'theron drank a glass of Brightsong wine, an expensive and rare drink imported all the way from Terokkar Forest in Outland, as Alaus the bonobo monkey sat and ate a banana. "When we were planning and you volunteered to handle the ship none of us quite knew what to expect."

"I know a goblin engineer here who I worked with in the past and figured it had been too long since I got to blow anything up. Almost reminded me of the good old days when we were part of the Alliance Expedition through the Dark Portal. Before the third war, when it was simply us versus them. Now there seem to be enemies all around." Malachi's words were somber, unusual for one who was always the first to crack a smile.

"Aye, the world has gone mad. It is because of that time that we all work together now; when we were all on the same side fighting against the onslaught Doomhammer's Horde. Fate and politics would have us fighting each other because of who we should be aligned with, but we were never ones for politics."

Rarely did Garret speak of the past. They had all suffered and fought together in the second war. It was years after the Third War when they finally met each other again upon the cold shores of Northrend when both the Alliance and Horde waged war against the Lich King. Afterwards, when the world had been shifted by the Cataclysm and the two factions began to approach all out war, they banded together again and instead of fighting for factions or kingdoms, they fought for themselves, as mercenaries for hire.

The mood at the table grew somber still as everyone reflected upon their pasts and all that had led up to this moment. The silence hung in the air. Suddenly there appeared as if by magic a small gnome by the table.

"Mind if I join you gentlemen?" Before any of them could say otherwise she had pulled a stool up to the table and sat up at the table with her own mug of ale. Her hair was bright pink and pulled into two poofed out pigtails on either side of her head. She smiled cheerily at them as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip.

"Oy lil lady, this here is a private party. No offense, but we'd just like to sit and chat amongst ourselves if you don't mind."

"My name is Lully Spannerfuse gentlemen," she went on as if Magnar hadn't said anything at all, "and from what I hear you gentlemen are the ones to talk to about getting things done."


End file.
